


domesticate

by bonebo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bondage, D/s, Dubious Consent, M/M, Sheathfucking, Werewolf!Jesse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 14:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10743153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonebo/pseuds/bonebo
Summary: "You will learn to appreciate it, in time."





	domesticate

The beast is absolutely disgusting.

It’s the thought that lingers at the back of Hanzo’s mind, as he paces around the creature--watches him writhe where he lies, thick arms bound behind his back and ankles tied to his spread thighs, holding him open--and he finds his gaze lingering almost curiously on the broad muzzled snout, the wide tongue that rolls against glistening fangs, the wrinkle to whiskered lips as the werewolf growls. It’s a low sound, something mean and feral; this creature is dangerous, Hanzo can tell.

But he’s brought dangerous beasts to heel before. This time will be no different.

“Cease your sniveling.” One clawed boot nudges at the werewolf’s thigh, and Hanzo wrinkles his nose in disdain as he toes at the creature’s low-hanging balls, watching the soft skin shift with the rolling movement of weight inside. “Your name is Jesse, yes? Clearly you are new to these lands. You do not quite understand who I am.”

Hanzo shifts his foot, pressing down on the pliable, furry sack beneath his toes--and darts his eyes up as the werewolf’s growl suddenly catches, changes, pitching higher and thinning out. The pull of Jesse’s lips has changed from snarl to a grimace, his teeth locked together behind the wires of his muzzle; and Hanzo slowly draws his foot back as the muscles in Jesse’s thighs quiver.

“But you will learn,” Hanzo tells him, voice soft. “Just like all the others.”

-x-

Hanzo teaches Jesse in the only language he knows--physical dominance.

It seems a daunting task when faced with a werewolf well over twice his size, writhing body held only by ropes and chain; but Hanzo is not new to the title of Wolf Lord, nor to the challenge of bringing outsiders into his pack and under his control. He has taken down and tamed creatures Jesse’s size before--though none have matched Jesse’s ferocity, his tenacity--and though he knows his methods to be crude, primal, he also knows them to work.

“Spread your legs, dog--wider. _Wider_ ,” Hanzo barks, kicking at one of Jesse’s thick thighs when he refuses to comply. The werewolf snarls at him, his ears flattening against his skull; but after a moment of glaring at Hanzo with his big dark eyes and considering his options, tugging against the ropes he’s bound with, he slowly obeys. His thighs fall open and Hanzo nods, satisfied when the thick sheath and heavy sack are fully bared to his gaze.

Like this--on his back with chest arched, fluffy tail laid between his spread legs and head turned to the side--Jesse looks manageable, almost. Domesticated, ready to please.

Hanzo loosens his pants.

“There is only one way to teach beasts like you,” he says, as he drops down to his knees over Jesse’s midsection; it’s almost a struggle to get his legs spread wide enough to fit, to contain the bulk of the wolf between his thighs. But the stretch in his muscles is worth it, to feel Jesse’s solid warmth tucked up under him--to feel the soft fur that brushes against Hanzo’s ankles, to hear Jesse’s confused little _“Rrw...?”_ as his growl dies.

Hanzo licks his lips as he pulls his cock free from his pants; he’s a little shy of fully hard, the warmth of his cock a familiar weight in his hands as he gives himself a stroke. His eyes wander over the expanse of Jesse’s bared pelvis and he finds himself unable to decide where to look first--at the twitching, dark hole of his sheath, or the heavy mounds of his balls nestled beyond, hanging low and full between Jesse’s legs. Hanzo reaches out to grab at one, squeezing it in his palm and listening to Jesse rumble behind him.

“You need to be taught through pure physical domination,” Hanzo growls, as he angles his hips forward and lets the tip of his cock nudge almost shyly at the soft, slack entrance to Jesse’s sheath--the wolf gives a startled jerk beneath him, his chest rising with a snarl, but Hanzo’s grip around his balls turns to iron and he pulls, stopping just shy of making it _really_ hurt when Jesse yelps. 

“Be still.” Hanzo glances over his shoulder; can see the war in Jesse’s dark eyes, the need for defiance versus self-preservation, the mild curiosity under it all. Hanzo curls his lip in reply to it, to show the wolf he is not the only one here with a set of fangs. “You will be taught your place, beast.”

And he rolls his hips forward in one smooth motion, and sinks himself in.

The sensation is enough to take Hanzo’s breath away, to make him squeeze his eyes shut tight as the muscles in his thighs tense up, lock him in place. The grip of Jesse's sheath around the length of his cock is heavenly; a velvet-soft, moist warmth that squeezes Hanzo perfectly, like it's molded to his specific shape, made for his use. He can hear Jesse's surprised little yip and feel the quick, hitching breaths of Jesse’s belly under him, and he delights in it all, rocking his hips deeper until the head of his cock is butted up snug against the slick, soft tip of Jesse's own. After a moment of just breathing, enjoying the feel, Hanzo lays his free palm over the hard line of his cock inside Jesse's sheath and squeezes there, listens to the wolf whimper below him, watches his big paws tremble and his clawed toes flex.

“This is where you belong,” Hanzo says, breathless--he slowly moves his hips, thrusting into the warm, supple space ready for his use, his claim, with all the power he can put in his hips. “Under me...being used by me. Marked by me, right here where you can't wash away, over what you mistakenly thought was yours…”

Jesse whimpers softly, and Hanzo answers it with a growl from low in his chest, pleased; he knows the raw, intimate marking is a source of humiliation, a strange kind of not-quite-pleasure that leaves the wolf below him feeling used, helpless, submissive to the alpha currently dominating his cock. Hanzo loves it--loves glancing back and seeing the way Jesse’s face is twisted with uncertainty behind the wires of his muzzle, loves feeling the pulse and twitch of the wolf’s heavy balls in his hand, loves watching the supple opening to his sheath stretch and yield with every one of Hanzo’s insistent thrusts.

“You’ll come to appreciate this, in time,” Hanzo pants, voice breathy over Jesse’s own whimpers and whines as he steadily fucks into the velvety sheath. The wolf squirms fitfully beneath him, his tail lashing between his legs, and suddenly arches his pelvis up; and Hanzo snarls, yanks on the warm, furry mound of his balls as retribution, just to hear Jesse howl.

Apparently, ‘in time’ was a lot sooner than he’d first thought.

“Or, you will appreciate it now.” Hanzo smirks, loosening his grip on Jesse’s balls and rolling them in his palm, letting the warm, loose skin shift in his grip and playing with their ripe weight. “For all your bluster...you are taking to this lesson very well. Usually it takes more to have the wolves learning their place and accepting it, but you...you are just eager to please, aren’t you? Jesse?”

And the wolf howls, his hips bucking sharply; Hanzo can feel the warm, massive length nudging against his own cock, slick and hard and struggling to free itself from its confines. He chuckles lightly, arching forward until the plush, supple rim of Jesse’s sheath is kissing up against his balls, tickling them with down-soft fur.

“Good boy. You’ll learn your place, soon enough.”


End file.
